Chapter 8
I never want to leave this town, it’s so vibrant and beautiful. I have been in the meadow all day with my friend, Estelle, talking about the same favorite books we have in common or making out shapes from the passing clouds. We walked far enough to find berry bushes, so we decided to pick some and have a picnic in the grass by the clear river. The lotus flowers floating in the river wash me with a sense of tranquility.
Even the flowers out here smell so fresh and aromatic. The environment surrounds me with a deep sense of tranquility. Estelle tells me about her daughter and she listens without judgment as I explain why I don’t want children.
“There are so many reasons, I can’t name them all if I tried. I love children, but I genuinely don’t think motherhood would be for me,” I tell her.
“Those were all very valid reasons on their own. I think you should live your life in a way that will make you happy at the end of it. You get one life. Be happy, make mistakes, explore as much as you can.” She speaks so passionately, her energy is seeping into me. Soon, I’m imagining different places to travel to, and cultures to learn, and experiences to live through.
“Do you think you are living your life in a way that will make you happy at the end of the line?” I ask her.
Her entire demeanor immediately turns gloomy, but she gives me a weak attempt at a smile, anyway. As soon as she opens her mouth to speak, the bright blue sky starts to turn the most mesmerizing shades of purple, and pink, and orange as the sun sets, stealing both of our attention. As beautiful as it is, the sun seems to be setting all too suddenly and quickly, too.
Estelle turns to look at me again, her face riddled with dread. Noting her reaction, I sit up and mirror her expression on my own face. “Estelle, what’s wrong?”
“I need you to listen to me, we don’t have much time left.”
Okay, she is seriously starting to scare me. “Time left where? What are you talking about?”
I hear voices coming from somewhere in the distance. It sounds so close, but so muffled. I think it’s coming from the sky; I squint my eyes up at the clouds.
“Shh, it’s okay. Listen to me. Don’t trust anyone, you have to be careful, please.” She takes both of my hands in hers and squeezes. “You know who you are, Amaris. You want to be free, so be free. Don’t let anyone or anything hold you down. You are fearless, you are clever, you are a warrior. I love you, but I don’t want to see you again for a long time. Can you do that for me, mi vida ?”
Tears stream down my face involuntarily as I listen. “I think s-so. But I-I’m so conf-used.” I take a deep breath to even out my heart rate as best as I can.
What is going on?
I try again. “Estelle, I’m scared and confused. I don’t want to leave this bubble. We are safe here.”
“We all are a little scared and confused, my dear.” She pulls me in for a comforting hug, stroking my hair and rocking me side to side as I cry myself to sleep on her chest.
When I flutter my eyes open again, it takes extra effort. They feel so heavy. My eyes adjust while I take in my surroundings. There’s a big window, an empty sofa chair to my left, all white walls, too bright lights, and an annoying beep coming from somewhere. It hurts to turn my neck, but I manage to turn my head to the right when I hear a strange female voice.
“Look who’s awake.”
There is a short woman with meadow green eyes standing right next to me and a tall man standing behind her near the door. She says something, but I don’t hear her, too lost in the eyes that remind me of the meadow I was just sitting in.
I blink.
“How are you feeling? You took quite a fall.”
Fall? The doctor's coat didn’t register until now. I look down at my stomach and see I am in a hospital gown with a needle sticking out of my arm. What the fuck? What am I doing here?
“What happened? Why am I here?” I ask the nurse.
She stares at me blankly then speaks slowly. “Are you able to repeat that in English for me?”
Shit, I didn’t even realize I was speaking in Spanish. “I’m sorry. What am I doing here?” I ask again in English.
“You were in a motorcycle accident and flew off the bike. The good news is you didn’t suffer major physical damage thanks to your helmet and clothing. The bad news, is that you seem to be experiencing post-traumatic amnesia.” The nurse keeps talking but I tune her out.
My eyes keep finding the man in the corner. His blue eyes are so dark they look like the night. Something about him is familiar, though I can’t put my finger on it.
I won’t focus on that, it hurts too much to think. Everything is fuzzy, I feel removed from my body right now. The confusion is suffocating. I want to scream so loud that it shatters the window next to me, but what would that fix?
Did she say I have amnesia? That can’t be right, my parents are…Why can’t I remember who my parents are? I don’t think I remember anyone . The heart monitor I forgot I’m hooked up to gives my anxieties away when it speeds up its beeping, seemingly getting louder and louder. I’m about ready to rip these cords off of my body when the nurse places her hand on mine.
“Hey, it’s okay to be scared. This is new and it might be hard, but you will be okay.”
Instead of answering, I nod my head and take slower breaths in an attempt to calm down in front of these people. Let me try to focus on what I do know.
My name is Amaris. I am twenty years old and was born in Punta Cana. I like to read and bake. Boxing and riding my bike are important outlets in my life…Wait, my bike.
The nurse is still speaking so I interrupt her, “I’m sorry, but you said I was in an accident, right?” She confirms, so I continue. “Would you happen to know what happened to my bike?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know for sure, but I think the motorcycle was totaled in the accident. We will keep you updated on that,” she says, sympathetically.
Gesturing to the man to come forward, she places her hand over mine again. “I’m going to call your main doctor, you can speak to your friend here in the meantime.” With a smile, she grabs her clipboard and leaves us alone in the room.
Familiar spiced notes mixed with a woody aroma assault my nose when he comes near. He looks at me cautiously, almost like he’s trying to burn a hole through my head and read my mind.
I hesitate then say, “I don’t remember you, but I get the feeling we used to be close?” It’s a statement, but it comes out as more of a question.
His lips break out in a devilish smirk. “Absolutely, sweetheart.” That husky voice sends a shiver down my spine that I try to repress. Sensing the question on the tip of my tongue he provides, “I’m Kylo, a…close family friend of yours.”
“Where are my parents?”
“Your parents moved out of the country a while ago. They trusted my family to watch over you before they left, until you moved out to live with your boyfriend at the time.”
Damnit.
At the time.
“Well, where is this boyfriend of mine?” I pry for any information I can get.
“Let’s just say, he was a piece of shit and you left him when you realized it.” There’s a strange glint in his eye, but I don’t get a chance to decipher it because the doctor chooses that moment to knock twice and let himself in.
The doctor discusses the same thing the nurse told me and then asks me some standard questions. The whole conversation is over in the blink of an eye. “Usually, we would have you stay a few more days to monitor you, but Mr. Kincaid has offered to look after you instead. He took care of any paperwork, so I will have someone bring you your belongings then you are free to leave. Remember to regularly put the ointment we give you on your cuts and burns and take one pill of each medication in the morning for the next week,” he says before leaving.
What?
You want to be free, so be free.
The phrase echoes in my head until a finger snap in my face pulls me out of it. “Did you hear me? I said the driver will be outside the east exit. I came on my bike so I will meet you guys at the compound.”
Someone is easily irritated.
“Who the hell said I agreed to leaving with you?” I snap.
“Where else will you go, Amaris?” I keep my mouth shut, knowing I don’t have the slightest clue. “Exactly, you have no one.”
As true as his words might be, it still stings to hear. I won’t let it show, though.
“I have no one, yet here you are. What does that say about you?” One brow quirks up at him.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he opens his mouth to speak, but when no words come out, he shuts it again. “I have no clue.” He takes a deep breath then starts again. “Look, you have nowhere to go and I’m here to give you a hand until you need it. You’ll be free to leave whenever you’re ready to.”
I consider my response. “So, I’ve been there before?”
“Yes, of course,” he says after a beat.
Nodding my head, I shut my eyes and say a silent, “Okay, fine. I’ll go with you.” Then turn my head in the opposite direction from him, listening to the taps of his footsteps fade away.
Kylo Kincaid. That name rings a bell in my head—at least he probably isn’t a stranger. He seemed to know personal information about me, but I need to remember more information about myself than some guy I hardly recognize, sooner rather than later.
The nurse from earlier enters the room, once again pulling me from my worries. In her hand is a big bag with items. The outline of a helmet reminds me of the wind blowing through my hair; that peaceful feeling that feels so foreign now. She helps me get out of the bed then informs me she’ll be back with my medication and a chair to wheel me outside before leaving me to change.
My entire body is on fire. Aside from my scratched-up helmet, I find jogger pants and a shirt, as well as my favorite leather jacket in the bag. I remember you. The man from the dealership sold me this jacket when he sold me my bike years ago. The clothes are kind of dirty, but they’ll do for now. When I unfold my pants, I find the dagger my dad gifted me when I was just a teenager. Tears prick my eyes when I try, and fail yet again, to visualize my parents’ faces.
Get it together, Amaris.
I distract myself by looking for any other items; my wallet, my phone, a purse, anything. Coming up short forces me to give up and change into my clothes. It takes me longer than usual since my body is battered up. I feel like I got hit by a bus. Once I leave this hospital I’ll dwell on everything. My main focus is leaving this room right now.
As I’m tying my shoelaces, the nurse returns with a wheelchair and prescription bag. She drones on about the long, complicated names of the pills I’ll be taking and what they’re for until we reach the exit. It doesn't take me long to find a sleek Lincoln Navigator waiting right outside when I roll out the double doors.
An older man—he seems to be in his late thirties—rounds the car when he sees me wheeled out and opens the door for me without a word, or making eye contact, for that matter. That set the tone for the rest of the ride back to wherever it is that we are going: quiet and weird.
I hope I’m not making a big mistake here.
Luckily, the drive was short, saving me from the prolonged awkward silence. We pull into a gated property that stretches so far back, I can’t tell where it ends. The estate to my left is the first thing that catches my eye. This must be the main house . It’s a huge, cream-colored two-story house with bushes decorating the walkway to the stairs that lead to the front door. Bushes so green they look fake—I’m pretty sure they are fake. I count at least nine windows and that’s only from the front. There seems to be a huge car garage attached to the side of the mansion, too.
On the right side of the car, there’s a pond directly before the house that seems randomly placed with trees lining the fence behind it. Following the lineup of trees all the way to, what I’m guessing is the back of the property, are four smaller buildings that we are driving towards. The first two detached houses are facing each other over the street we’re driving on, whereas the other two buildings look like square bungalows and are facing me. Tilting my head at the bungalow ahead, I wonder if what I’m looking at is the front or the back of it.
Suddenly, the car comes to a stop right in between the bungalows and the driver promptly gets out to open my door. When I step out the first person I see is Kylo walking towards the bungalow to my right. He turns to me when he notices me standing there and points to the bungalow to my left.
“That’s where you’ll be staying for now, the entrance is around the back. You can walk on your own,” he says with his jaw tight before leaving me where I stand.
Asshole.
The car drives off and I spin to watch that leave me here, too. In the distance, I can just make out the silhouette of a man standing on the steps of the estate in the front. Speeding to my new temporary place, I close and lock the door, leaning my forehead against the cool metal. When I finally turn around, I take in the open-concept living room and kitchen.
The place is clean, but it also looks like no one has been here in a while. Blue, white, and gray minimal decorations give the area a coastal air. The high cabinets are white in the kitchen, while the island of lower cabinets and drawers are a pretty turquoise blue color with white marble countertops matching seamlessly. There is also a small dining table that seats about four people, more than enough for only one person to be using. There are two soft-gold pendant light fixtures hanging with faux candles overhead.
Green catches my attention when I move towards the kitchen, drawing me to the triple casement windows that paint a gorgeous scene of the woods beyond. After admiring nature for a minute, I continue to the kitchen, opening the cabinets and drawers. At least they are stocked with equipment. The fridge, however, has water, eggs, and a pack of grapes—such a random selection—otherwise that, too, is untouched.
I slam the fridge door with much more force than needed and groan loudly, my earlier frustrations creeping into my head. I feel like a forlorn puppy; lost and wandering aimlessly. I search for a bathroom and find a bedroom instead with a queen bed that looks like a cloud. Opening the two doors in the room I discover a bare walk-in closet and then the bathroom. First and foremost, I need a shower.
Half of my shower was spent with me sitting on the floor with the stream running over me as I allowed myself to cry loudly until the water turned cold. I don’t know what time it is, let alone what day it is. I crawl into bed in just my top since I washed the dirty joggers and underwear in the shower to dry for tomorrow.
The coastal vibe continues into the bedroom. My headboard is the same royal blue as the couch out in the living room and fresh white sheets wait to swallow me whole.
My brain is scrambled; the memories I am able to remember are mostly a blur or just choppy. The harder I try to think the worse my headache grows.
Who am I?
The only memory I clearly remember is my time in that gorgeous, colorful meadow with Estelle. What I wouldn’t give to go back to that peaceful town, I don’t even know what town it was. Now my world still has color, but it isn’t the same. It’s all dull and dark, reflecting how I feel inside.
A part of me hopes that when I wake up everything will be back to normal. Another small part of me hopes I don’t wake up at all.